


When I Was Your Age (A Homestuck Epilogue)

by SeahorseTrash



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Can Town, F/F, F/M, Fluffy Ending, Growing Old Together, Grumpy Old Men, I Made Myself Cry, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, If you only read one work by me, Jade's dopplegangers, Jake pops a hip, Kurt Cobain wannabe, M/M, Old Age, Old Married Couple, POV John Egbert, POV Second Person, Post-Canon, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, duck duck goose, full circle ending, karkat is a cat confirmed, the mayor officiated the wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:09:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6558838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeahorseTrash/pseuds/SeahorseTrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about a boy and his friends, who played a game. </p><p>-</p><p>My own little epilogue to Homestuck, set 50 years in the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Was Your Age (A Homestuck Epilogue)

**Author's Note:**

> I actually had this idea a while ago, but never really got around to finishing it until now. I tried to finish it last night while it was still 4/13, but it's better late than never!

A not-so-young man sits in a rocking chair on his front porch. It just so happens that today, the 13th of April, 2059, is a very special day.

Your name is JOHN EGBERT.

Not only is today your birthday, but it also marks the beginning of your amazing adventure fifty years ago. You never thought you'd make it this far, but here you were, alive, with your friends by your side.

After playing the game that destroyed the illusion of reality and nearly cost you your life, you and your friends settled down to a much simpler life on the beautiful planet you created. At first, it seemed like a daunting task, but with the aid of ectobiology, you formed a lovely little community full of kind faces and adorable anklebiters that just so happened to share your genetic sequence. They would always gather around, young and old, to listen to your story.

"When I was your age," you would begin, gesturing towards a young man with your same choppy black hair and buck teeth. "My friends and I played a game called Sburb…”

You had told the story an incalculable amount of times, and the children had heard it just as many, and so had their parents. It became more of a legend than a mere bedtime story. There were a few skeptics, of course—mostly the mini-Serkets—but nearly everyone believed it, because they saw the passion in your eyes as you and your friends tell your stories. A few are even fortunate enough to see souvenirs you had kept from your adventure, such as old, discoloured captchalogue cards, the ragged bunnies you had all received as children, and even pieces of your god tier garments, which were now faded and torn.

As you sit outside on that sunny afternoon, enjoying the fresh air of the early spring, you turn to look at your friend, Dave, who appears to be sleeping, though he is most likely just deep in thought. Dave tends to zone out from time to time, often leaving him to mindlessly babble on about the most peculiar things. He seems to not enjoy telling the stories as much as the others, as he sometimes leaves the room when someone mentions the game, but he never explains why. He and Dirk were known for their stubborn ability to suppress their emotions. They simply give a blank stare when asked any question that could count as personal. It often comes across as rude, when in reality, they just really don't want to talk about it. Of course, they were both fairly traumatized by a few of the events that had taken place, so it’s understandable.

You have a feeling it is just hard for Dave to think about his past without some neglected memories rising to the surface, and usually just let him be by himself until it blows over.

Some parts of the adventure are sad for you to tell as well, but you feel like the story wouldn't be complete without those moments. Just as you thought you had lost, and all of your friends were dead forever, you had found a way to go back and fix everything, so that all those terrible things never happened. Your friends were alive, and you were together, and that's all that mattered. There were unsettling thoughts that crossed your mind from time to time, and you sometimes woke with nightmares, but your friends were always there to assure you that everything would be okay.

"John," Dave says, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I know I'm pretty hot for a grandpa, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't have your nostalgic daydreaming sessions while staring at me." 

 

“Oh, sorry.” You shake yourself out of your trance, chuckling at your friend’s deadpan humor.

You'd think that an adventure as life-altering as yours would change a man, but it really didn't work that way with the Striders. Dave was still as witty and immature as ever, and still did not know the actual definition of irony. You supposed some things never changed. As for Dirk, well, you didn’t get to know him very well at first, but once things settled down, you started talking more and learning about how Betty Crocker took over the Earth. He is distant at times, but a nice person overall, as curt as he can be sometimes. He still builds robots in his free time, but programs them to play games with the kids instead of fight, because an old guy like him can’t spar to the death with a robot, obviously. 

However, old age didn’t seem to stop Jake English from his crazy antics. He was like that one weird science teacher that knew way too much about lizards and bugs. Jane was the only one who could keep him in line, and if all else failed, Dirk would have to go fetch him from the woods before he got himself in trouble.

You watch as he engages in a football match with some of the children. They are absolutely creaming him, slide tackling the old fart with every chance they get.

Okay, he isn’t that old, but his sideburns are gray and he has speckled stubble that the kids call “salt and pepper”.

One of the little chessmen scores a goal on him, and they all cheer.

“You got me!” you hear him say, crouching down to give the guy a high-five. “You know, I can’t move like I used to. You kiddos are lucky you have all this energy to run around.”

“Jake,” Jane calls from the other side of the field, “Get over here and sit down before you bust a hip!”

Jake laughs, brushing her off. “I’m fine, Jane—OW MY HIP!” he yowls.

“Are you okay?” asks a Jade 2.0.

“I’m just peachy,” Jake says, taking a rest under a tree.

You direct your gaze back to Dave, who has drifted off again, a slight frown on his stoic face.

You all experienced your fair share of mental instability after playing the game, and even suffer physically from past injuries. Sometimes, the aftermath of your illegitimate deaths burn and ache—a painful reminder of what death feels like. 

The kids are always pointing and asking about the scars from your adventures. You don’t really their curiosity, as it’s natural for young people to wonder. Some of the boys take a special interest in Dirk’s, since it lies in plain sight, wrapping around his neck. He tried to grow his hair out once to cover it, but he just ended up looking like an anime Kurt Cobain wannabe.

You watch him as he shows a group of boys the clean cut.

“It goes all the way around,” he says, pulling down his collar to prove it. They stare in awe, one of them reaching out the touch it.

“That’s so cool!” Jake English the XII shouts, jumping up and down with delight. Dirk smiles.

Karkat stomps up the stairs to sit next to Dave in the swing chair. “Move over, asshole.” He’s wearing a knit beanie Rose made for him, with holes for his horns and everything. It’s nice and warm out, but there is a slight breeze.

“I was just getting comfy,” Dave protests, though he obliges as Karkat glares daggers at him. “C’mere you little shit,” he says, wrapping his arm around the grumpy old troll.

“Hey Karkat,” you greet him. He just grunts in response. “Bad day?”

“One of Jade’s doppelgangers was probably giving him a hard time,” Dave says, stealing Karkat’s hat, earning a weak punch in the shoulder. “Woah, watch it. I’m a fragile old man.”

“Fuck you.”

Those two bicker like an old married couple. It’s so adorable.

Oh wait…

They are an old married couple. 

You almost forgot. It’s been so long. A few years after the construction of Can Town was complete, they got married on the steps of the Bubbles Von Salamancer Memorial Library. The Mayor officiated the wedding. It was one of the cutest fucking things you’ve ever seen.

“Um, hello? Earth to Egdork,” Dave says, waving a hand in front of your face. “Dude, why do you keep zoning out on me?”

“I'm just thinking, reminiscing,” you explain, looking off to see Kanaya and Rose lying in the tall grass, watching the clouds roll by.

“About what?” he asks. “Or should I say, who?”

“What?” You aren't sure what he means.

“Roxy,” he says. “I'm talking about Roxy. Do you need to clean out your ears again, Egbert?”

You scan the landscape for the beautiful blur of pink and purple that is Roxy Lalonde. She's sitting in the grass with Calliope and some kids. It looks like they're playing Duck, Duck, Goose.

You smile.

“Oh shit, somebody call the wish doctor, ‘cause this fool’s in love,” Dave announced dramatically. You open your mouth to protest, but he interrupts. “Fifty years is a long time to be in denial, John.”

You guess he's right. Maybe you’ll man up and tell her someday.

You hear a faint purr to your right, and look over to see Karkat fast asleep against Dave’s shoulder. Karkat used to never sleep, but now he took naps on the daily.

“Well, I guess I’m stuck here,” Dave sighs, knowing that Karkat won’t budge. He slept like a rock; a small, cuddly rock.

“Dave,” you say, “don’t you ever wonder what life would be like if we hadn’t...you know, played the game?”

“It would probably suck,” he says. “I never would've gotten to have friends in real life. I would just be some stupid kid who didn't know what the hell he was doing.” He pauses, correcting himself. “Okay, I still did end up being a stupid kid who didn't know what the hell he was doing, but I had actual friends to guide me, instead just ridiculous advice from my bro, which—for the record—always backfired.”

“I never really thought about it that way.” You suppose life would be pretty dull without your friends. “I can't imagine what it would be like to never have met all of these awesome people. I mean, Karkat and Terezi and them wouldn't have even started talking to us if it weren't for the game.” Your voice falters as you remember everything the trolls did for you. Terezi conjured up the brilliant plan to fix the timeline and bring all of your friends back, and even though she called you names and tried to kill you at first, you had to thank her for it.

Speaking of Terezi, you wonder what she’s doing. You look over yonder and find her and Vriska roleplaying with a group of chessmen by the lake, pretending their pirates. You hear them calling each other “scallywags” and telling people to “swab the poop deck”. It reminds you of Vriska and Meenah’s treasure hunt. You remember how much fun it was to see them all again.

“Don’t tear up on me, man,” Dave teases. “We had enough of that when we first got here. I still have your snot on my cape.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, “it’s just...It’s been so long, you know? It feels like just yesterday we were just fooling around in our rooms, with no idea that we would be heroes in the end.” 

“Well, fuck. Now I’m crying,” he says. You swear you see a hint of a smile on his face. 

A little Rose Jr. hops up the steps, a lilac notepad and pen in hand. You can tell she is going to bombard you with questions. She has always been the curious one.

“Can you tell me that story again?” she asks. “The one about s-burb.” Her eyes are brighter than the green sun.

“Again?” you say. You’re positive you’ve told her that old tale at least twice already. 

You supposed one more wouldn’t hurt.

“Okay, alright.” You wait for her to sit down. She opens her notebook to reveal pages and pages of text, all in the same purple ink. You wonder what she writes all day. “I guess I’ll start from the beginning.”

You clear your throat, thinking back to how it all began. “A young man stands in his bedroom. It just so happens that today, the 13th of April, 2009, is this young man’s birthday…” 

The End.


End file.
